


That Which Binds Us

by Nekomata58919



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, Sexy Times, a little bit of magic, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of time, place, or circumstances, the cord may stretch or tangle, but never break."<br/>Jim Gordon and Oswald Cobblepot have always had a connection, a bond. Now that bond has been solidified by a single red string.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The String

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, dear readers, to my newest fanfiction.  
> I'm pretty excited for this particular story, so I hope you all are as well. :)

                Graffiti blurred in the corners of Jim’s eyes. The echo of fleeing footfalls were all he had to keep track of the criminal. He nearly crashed into a civilian as he rounded the corner.

                “Watch it asshole!”

                Jim didn’t spare the angry man a glance as he sprinted out of Crime Alley onto Park Row. Whipping his head from side to side he spotted the bobbing black hoodie. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the dull ache in his legs, he continued his pursuit.  

                The man tipped over a trashcan and darted down another alley. Jim hurdled the metal bin and dashed after him. He skidded to a stop when he realized he had the criminal backed into a corner.

                “GCPD! Put your hands up!” Jim snapped, aiming his gun at the man whose face was still shrouded in shadow. The criminal looked around at the looming brick walls surrounding him and that was when Jim noticed the small red bag in his hand. “Put the bag down and raise your hands!”

                Jim watched as the man turned back to him. Seemingly resigned, the man crouched to place the bag down. A flash of a smirk was all the warning Jim had before the man tossed the contents of the bag at him.

                Powder clouded Jim’s vision and burned his lungs. He doubled over, coughing, and heard the telltale _tap-tap-taping_ of the criminal’s shoes as he made his escape.

                “Fuck!” Jim gasped, standing upright. He wiped at his stinging eyes again and grabbed his police radio. “Harvey, the guy escaped. I’ll meet you at the GCPD.”

                Jim sighed and turned to see if there was anything to tell him where the man could have gone. There was, as he had feared, no clues to be seen except…was that a red string? Jim frowned at the long red string that trailed out of the alley and seemed to be coming from, “What the hell?”

                The red string was attached to his pinkie. He had no idea how the man had managed to do that but it wasn’t a good sign. There had been a strange case of deaths where the victims all had severed red string tied around their pinkie fingers. Did this mean the man had just marked him as his next target?

                Jim frowned and tugged at the end of the string around his finger. It didn’t loosen. Frowning even more, he tried untying it again. Nothing. The golden glint of sunlight off glass caught Jim’s eye and he rummaged through a nearby pile of trash. He picked up the beer bottle and smashed it against the bricks. Carefully, Jim attempted to cut through the string with the glass shard. Again the string remained unaffected.

                “Great,” he muttered, tossing the broken bottle aside. Jim strode back through the alley, following the red string and hoping it would lead him to the criminal. That hope was dashed, however, when he got out onto the sidewalk and saw just how long the string was. The people passing by barely even acknowledged the string as it snaked down the dirty pavement and disappeared around a corner. Jim followed it for a while before realizing the end was nowhere close.

 

                “Hey, Jimbo! You catch the…what’s with the string?” Harvey asked as Jim settled into the passenger seat.

                Jim shook his head. “I wish I knew. The guy we were after tossed some powder in my face and must have tied this on while I was distracted. I tried untying it, but I can’t get it. You want to try?”

                Harvey raised an eyebrow and attempted to untie the string. “Powder huh? You sure it wasn’t coke or something?”

                “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t,” Jim replied. Harvey gave an annoyed huff and let go of the string.

                “The thing’s tied on good. I can’t get it. Maybe someone’ll have some scissors back at the station we can use,” he said. “How long is that thing anyway?”

                “I don’t know. Pretty damn long. I stopped following it after a couple of blocks,” Jim replied, glaring at his pinkie.

                Harvey frowned. “That’s weird.”

 

                Jim dropped the scissors on his desk with an aggravated growl. The string remained completely intact after several attempts at cutting it.

                “I think you need to work on your upper body strength, Jimbo,” Harvey commented, chuckling. His laugh quickly faded at Jim’s expression. “Maybe we should try something else? I mean, it’s gotta be possible to cut it.”

                Jim tugged at the string in vain. “Fine. What else should we try cutting it with?”

                Harvey was quiet for a moment. “Hmm…I have an idea.”

                Jim followed Harvey to the lab. Even after three months, it was strange not to see Lee or Ed inside. He still found it hard to believe that Ed had killed Ms. Kringle and had planned to kill him. It just seemed so out of character for the nerdy quiet guy. And Lee…Well he was determined not to think of her.

                Harvey gave a nod to the new forensics’ guy - a plain man whose name Jim barely remembered to be Alan - who gave a polite nod back. “We just need to borrow some things in here.”

                “For what?” asked Alan.

                “To get rid of this,” Jim said, indicating the red string. “So far scissors haven’t worked.”

                Alan shrugged. “Okay. Just be careful and put what you use back where it came from when you’re done.”

                “Will do.”

                They tried all manner of tools to try and rid Jim of the string, but nothing seemed to work. The string didn’t even fray.

                “Maybe we should just chop off your pinkie,” Harvey suggested. Jim frowned. “I was just joking, sheesh…mostly. Maybe you should get that powder checked out while we’re here.”

                “Good idea,” Jim agreed, looking at the powder that dusted his jacket. His brows furrowed when he realized he had no way of removing his jacket while the string was still attached.

                Sensing Jim’s dilemma, Alan approached with a bowl.

                “Just dust some off into here,” he said. Jim gave an awkward half-smile as thanks and brushed off some of the powder into the bowl. “I’ll analyze it and get back to you with the results.”

                The door to the lab swung open and Barnes stomped inside, scowling. “What’s with this string, Gordon? It’s trailing through most of the station!”

                Jim shook his head. “I wish I knew. I’ve been trying to get it off but nothing’s worked.”

                Barnes looked at the array of sharp objects on the examination table behind them and then back at Jim and Harvey. “And you can’t just untie it?” he demanded.

                “Apparently not,” Harvey replied. “We’ve tried. It’s like it’s glued on or something.”

                “Well there has to be something you can do. You can’t work with a string attached to you, Gordon,” Barnes said. “Have you tried to find where the other end is?”

                Jim shook his head. “Sort of. I tried at first but it seemed like it would be too long to follow on foot. I’ll try again and see where it leads. Maybe I’ll find a way to get it off along the way.”

                “I’ll help. You’d likely get in an accident if you went on your own,” Harvey suggested and Jim nodded.

                “Alright. Thanks,” he said.

                Barnes sighed. “Just do it quickly. You can’t be on duty until that string is gone, got it?”

                “Yes, sir,” Jim replied grudgingly.

                As they left the lab, Harvey glanced at the string. “Ya know, it’s too bad Ed’s a murderer. He’d be the one person who probably could help us out on this one.”

                “Yeah, well, we’ll just have to figure it out ourselves,” Jim said.

 

* * *

 

                Three hours later found Jim and Harvey still trailing the red string. It seemed to weave throughout Gotham without rhyme or reason and every once in a while Jim swore it moved – though it _was_ getting dark out and Jim wasn’t positive.

                “This string is way too long to be normal,” Jim groused, his annoyance with the situation having increased due to having his arm hanging out the window.

                “Yeah, it is pretty damn weird,” Harvey agreed. “Hey, wait a minute, I think we’re getting close!”

                Frowning, Jim peered out the window and it did look like the string was starting to get shorter - if that was possible. He looked up to see that it was leading them up a small hill towards a mansion straight out of a fairytale. “Where are we?”

                “Hell if I know,” Harvey replied, parking beside a fancy black car.

                They got out and Jim led the way to the front door, hand at the ready in case the culprit was waiting inside. Jim knocked loudly on the door and waited. He didn’t have to wait long though.

                “Detective Gordon,” Gabe greeted, sounding as surprised as Jim felt.

                Jim tried to look around the larger man, but quickly gave up. “I don’t suppose Cobblepot is here?”

                “Yeah, the Boss is home. Wait here,” Gabe replied as he turned and headed into the manor, letting the door swing shut behind him.

                Jim exchanged looks with Harvey. The door opened again.

                “The Boss’ll see ya,” Gabe said, turning and leading them into the manor.

                Harvey whistled as they strode through the lavishly decorated halls. “This place is over-the-top.”

                “Yeah,” Jim agreed, a little distracted by the fact the string was definitely getting shorter. There should have been a ridiculous amount of extra string about, considering how long it had been, but there wasn’t. It looked as though the string had always been only a couple yards long.

                “Boss, the detectives are here,” Gabe announced as they entered a room that Jim assumed was the parlor. Sitting in a black high-backed chair in front of an overly-large ornate black stone fireplace was Oswald Cobblepot, and the red string lead directly to him.

                “Detectives…” Oswald greeted warily as he stood. “To what do I owe this…surprise visit?”

                “How about you explain this red string and why it’s attached to you?” Jim suggested gruffly. He was trying not to stare at Oswald, whom he hadn’t seen in some time. Jim may have also been feeling somewhat guilty about leaving Oswald in Arkham after discovering what Dr. Strange had been up to - but he hadn’t had the courage to look for him and apologize. 

                “Hey, has that thing gotten shorter?” Harvey asked Jim with a frown.

                “I assure you, Jim, I have no idea why this string appeared,” Oswald interrupted, limping over. “I was about to investigate it myself.”

                Harvey snorted. “Yeah, sure. Why don’t I believe you?”

                Oswald raised his chin. “I wouldn’t know, Detective Bullock. I have no reason to lie. After all this string is a hindrance to me as well since it won’t come off.”

                Jim was not pleased to hear this at all. “So I don’t suppose you had an encounter with a hooded man carrying a bag of powder?” he asked. “Or happen to know where he went?”

                “I haven’t. Why?” Oswald replied, arching an eyebrow. Jim explained his encounter with the criminal he’d been chasing and Oswald’s eyes narrowed. “That’s odd. Well, as I said, I haven’t met anyone throwing strange powder on people, so I have no help to offer. So, as much fun as this has been, I must ask you to leave. If you ever find out how to get rid of this string, then let me know. Gabe will show you out.”

                Jim and Harvey followed after Gabe, though Jim was a bit nonplussed at being thrown out. He had hoped that Oswald would be willing to help in some way, but it seemed he wanted nothing to do with them.

                “So, now what?” Harvey asked as they reached the foyer.

                “I don’t know. But maybe the powder will give us some clues,” Jim replied. Gabe opened the front door and Harvey strode through. Jim tried to follow but something was stopping him. He looked down at the string and was surprised to find it was pulled taut. Jim tried to walk out the door but the string refused to lengthen as it had before.

                “Jimbo, you comin’ or what?” Harvey asked, turning around at the bottom of the front steps.

                “I can’t,” Jim replied.

                “What do you mean you can’t?” Harvey demanded, climbing back up the stairs. “Oh. Well that’s just great.”

                Jim shook his head. “This day just keeps getting better.” He noticed Gabe was no longer by the door. Answering the unasked question of where he had gone, Gabe reappeared following Oswald back from the parlor.

                “What’s going on?” Oswald asked snappily.

                Jim held up his hand and gestured to the red string. “It was pulled tight. I couldn’t get past the front door.”

                Oswald huffed. “Well try now.”

                Jim rolled his eyes and made it out of the manor, but when he reached the car the string stopped him once again.

                “What, so now the damned string won’t let you go more than a few feet?” Harvey asked looking fed up with the situation.

                Jim sighed. “It looks like it.” He turned as he heard the uneven steps that signaled Oswald’s approach.

                “This is certainly a problem,” Oswald remarked, face impassive.

                “Oh, you think?” Jim snapped, glaring down at the shorter man.

                “I don’t appreciate your tone, Jim. This is _not_ my fault,” Oswald replied testily. “And short of one or both of us losing a finger, there don’t seem to be any immediate ways to fix this. We’re going to have to work together to come up with a solution. Being civil for once in your life would do you some good.”

                Jim was taken aback. It didn’t last long, though. He grit his teeth. “Don’t lecture me. I have been civil before.”

                Oswald made a noise of disbelief and turned his head away.

                “Both of you behave,” Harvey snapped. “Jesus Christ you two are like a damned married couple!”

                Oswald flushed and Jim frowned at his friend.

                “Look, if the string isn’t gonna let you get more than – what thirty-five feet? – from each other, you’re going to have to work something out. _I_ am going home. Hopefully we can find a permanent solution tomorrow,” Harvey said before turning and getting into the car. “I’ll be back to drop of your clothes, Jim!”

                Jim watched Harvey drive off, glowering. This was not how he had planned for this day to go.

                “It looks like you will be staying here, then,” Oswald remarked after a moment or two.

                “Yeah, it looks that way,” Jim agreed unenthusiastically. 


	2. Chinatown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews and kudos! <3

                When Oswald awoke the next morning he was not looking forward to getting up. He didn’t know what to make of the whole situation with the string and Jim.

                Once he would have been delighted to be tied to Jim and have him in his home, but now? Well, part of him was still delighted. The other was hesitant at best. He had hoped not to get into an argument with Jim when they next met and even thought that _maybe_ Jim would apologize for leaving him in Arkham Asylum, but it seemed fate was not on his side.

                Oswald gradually got out of the large four-poster bed and began to get dressed. He had found - much to his surprise – last night that the string passed right through clothing as though the string wasn’t really there. Oswald had decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just went with it.

                Based on the movement of the string, it seemed as though Jim was awake as well. Oswald left his room and limped down the hall towards the guest room Jim was using. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and Jim stepped out.

                “Good morning, Jim. I trust you slept well?” Oswald greeted politely. Maybe this time they could avoid arguing.

                “Yeah, fine thanks,” Jim replied. “Did the string uh…go through your clothes too?”

                Oswald nodded and hobbled past Jim and made his way to the stairs. “Yes. I’ve never seen anything like it. The string seems to be completely solid at any other time.”

                Before Jim could reply, his phone went off. Oswald glanced back over his shoulder as Jim answered the call. As curious as he was, Oswald was too hungry to care about eavesdropping on the conversation.

                “Oswald, we need to go,” Jim said, stopping him from entering the kitchen.

                Oswald scowled. “Now?”

                “Yes now,” Jim insisted. “Harvey called to tell me about the powder that Alan examined.”

                “Alan?” Oswald asked.

                “The new forensics scientist that replaced Ed,” Jim explained. “The powder is still mostly unknown, but one of the elements that made up the powder is a plant more commonly found in China. Harvey said he’d meet us in Chinatown.”

                Oswald sighed. “Fine, but we’re stopping to get something to eat along the way.”

 

* * *

 

                Oswald gazed out the window of his car and watched as Gabe drove them through a red gate that resembled a large pagoda. “Where in Chinatown are we meeting Bullock?”

                “He said he’d found a shop that supposedly sells magic items and herbal remedies,” Jim replied. Oswald nodded but didn’t reply otherwise. This was all so unreal, so who was he to say magic wasn’t involved?

                Soon they came across Harvey who was leaning against his car outside a shop. The foggy street was mostly deserted save for a few early risers. This part of Chinatown seemed different than the others. How it was different - Oswald wasn’t sure.

                “Hey, took you both long enough,” Harvey greeted jokingly, leading the way to the shop. Oswald ignored him and Jim rolled his eyes. Entering the shop Oswald was surprised by how ordinary it looked.

                The small shop was neat and organized, if a bit dark. There were scrolls on the walls by orderly shelves filled with containers of herbs, jars, statuettes, and what Oswald assumed were charms. Red lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow upon everything inside the shop. A waft of sweet gardenia and patchouli incense set them all at ease.

                “Is the shop even open?” Jim asked, looking around for the owner.

                Harvey shrugged. “The door wasn’t locked, was it?” He looked over the shelves, trying to see if the powder was on display. Oswald approached the counter and rang the bell there.

                A few moments later the door to the back opened, and an old man who looked like he had just stepped out of some ancient painting came out. The man had a long white beard with even longer white hair and was dressed in beautiful red and gold robes. He walked over to the counter and smiled at Oswald.

                “Welcome to my shop. How may I help you?” the man asked, looking behind Oswald at Jim and Harvey and then back to Oswald.

                Jim moved to stand beside Oswald. He held up his badge for the old man to see. “You’re the owner of this shop?”

                The man nodded. “Yes. I am Yuè Lǎorén, but please, call me Mr. Lǎo.”

                “We’ve been tracking down a criminal who’s using a powder that we believe comes from this shop. He’s also been tying red strings to his victim’s fingers. Like he has to us,” Jim explained, indicating the red string tying Oswald and him together. “Do you know anything about the powder?”

                Mr. Lǎo sighed and shook his head. “Ah, I see…Yes, I’m afraid I know of the powder you’re talking about.” The man turned to the shelves behind him and searched through them. He pulled a red and gold jar from the shelf and placed it on the counter. “A young man visited my shop recently. He wanted something to help him find his soulmate. I suggested using this.”

                Oswald raised an eyebrow. “Soulmate? How is powder supposed to help with that?”

                Mr. Lǎo chuckled and smiled. “This is a special powder. Magical. Using it you can reveal the Red String of Fate and find your soulmate.”

                Jim frowned and asked, “What’s the Red String of Fate? And whatever this guy is up to, it doesn’t seem like he cares about soulmates, or whatever. He’s killing people. That’s not magic, that’s real.”

                Mr. Lǎo scrutinized Jim for a moment before putting the jar back on the shelf. “The Red String of Fate is real, Detective. You can see yours at this very moment, after all. Those connected by it are destined to fall in love.” Ignoring Jim’s confusion, he continued. “It is unfortunate that that young man is misusing the gift I gave him. Normally the string cannot be broken, it is only when it becomes tangible that it also becomes fragile. But maybe this was fated to happen? You two have found one another after all.”

                Oswald first looked at the amused Mr. Lǎo, then at Jim. Was this true? If this Red String of Fate was real, then was Jim his soulmate? Oswald didn’t want to get his hopes up, but after everything that had happened, it would be nice if something good came of it.

                “We haven’t “found” each other. There’s no such thing as fate and even if there was, it wouldn’t tie me to him,” Jim snapped, glaring at the old man.

                “I don’t know, you two do seem to have a hard time staying away from each other,” Harvey commented with a smirk. Jim and Oswald ignored him.

                Mr. Lǎo seemed unfazed by Jim’s anger. “If you are so sure that the string is ordinary, why haven’t you untied it?” Jim seemed to have no answer for that. “Whether you believe in fate or not, Detective Gordon, the fact remains that you are bound together.”

                “Mr. Lǎo, people don’t usually seem to be troubled by this string. Neither of us are able to move more than thrity-five feet from each other,” Oswald piped up, trying to keep Jim from exploding.

                “I’m sorry to say that that is the side effect of revealing the string. Once you have found your soulmate, the string won’t let you stray very far,” Mr. Lǎo explained. “However, if you two were to be true to your feelings, the string will return to its natural state.”

                With how intensely Jim was frowning, Oswald could tell this news was not good news to him. “How else can we get rid of the string?” Jim demanded. Oswald knew that was coming, but still it hurt.

                Mr. Lǎo sighed. “If you are determined…There are three ways to make the string disappear. One is to fall in love with each other. Two, one of you would have to die. Or three, you both must feel complete indifference for one another.”

                Oswald knew immediately that he was screwed. He couldn’t manage indifference towards Jim no matter how many times he’d tried before. He certainly wasn’t going to die and neither would he allow Jim to. And how likely was it that Jim would fall in love with him?

                “What, you don’t own a pair of magic scissors or anything?” Harvey asked with a snort.

                Mr. Lǎo laughed. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.” He sobered and gave Jim and Oswald a sympathetic smile. “Those are the only options. I can’t be of any more help than that, I’m afraid. As for the young man, the powder I gave him will run out soon. If he returns here for more, I’ll call the GCPD.”

                Jim practically growled and stormed out of the shop, not that he could go further than Harvey’s car. Harvey shook his head and followed after him.

                “Thank you, Mr. Lǎo. We appreciate your help,” Oswald said politely, turning to go.

                “You’re welcome. And Mr. Cobblepot,” Mr. Lǎo called after him, “don’t be too upset. The gods know what’s best. I know things will turn out the way they should.”

                Oswald blinked – how had the man known his name when he hadn’t introduced himself? - and left. He hoped Mr. Lǎo was right.

 

                “Well that was a waste of time,” Jim complained, arms crossed angrily over his chest.

                “Not completely,” Harvey said with a shrug. “You learned that the string can go away.”

                “Don’t tell me you believe that bullshit about the whole magic thing,” Jim replied with a frown.

                “It’s not bullshit, Jim,” Oswald said, approaching the two. “How else would you explain the fact that we can’t cut it or untie it, yet it goes through clothes like it does even exist?”

                “He makes a good point,” Harvey agreed. He made a face. “And that’s something I never thought I’d say about Penguin.”

                Oswald gave a start as Jim got up in his face.

                “Fine, then how do you suggest we get it off? Kill each other?” Jim retorted.

                Oswald broke eye contact. It was difficult to concentrate when he could practically feel Jim’s breath on his face. “No, of course not. That would be stupid.”

                Jim shook his head and made his way to the car.  Oswald frowned at the ground. This was all going very badly so far. Jim’s temper was even worse than it had been before, so how was he supposed to reason with him?

 

* * *

 

                The ride back to Oswald’s home was filled with awkward silence. Jim was still pissed about the situation _and_ the fact that Oswald seemed to be taking it a lot better. He didn’t know how the other man could be so calm about being tied together.

                “Jim, I think we should seriously discuss how to deal with this string,” Oswald said as they entered the manor. Jim ignored him and made his way to the kitchen to hopefully find something to drink. “Jim!”

                “What?” Jim demanded, successfully finding some scotch and pouring himself a glass.

                “Don’t ignore me. This is a serious issue that you can’t just drink away,” Oswald replied, frowning at Jim as he practically downed the scotch.

                Jim shook his head and left to go find the living room. “There’s nothing to talk about. Neither of us is going to kill ourselves, or each other, so what?”

                “There were two other options,” Oswald reminded him. Jim snorted and set the empty glass down on the coffee table. “Both would be difficult, but not impossible, right?”

                “I don’t think either of us can manage indifference,” Jim said, resolutely _not_ looking at Oswald. He heard the other approach him and tensed.

                “I agree. But…” Oswald trailed off for a moment. Jim was trying to ignore his presence, hoping he would just leave him alone. “Maybe…Maybe we could love each other? That’s what the string suggests, after all. That we should…”

                Jim whirled around, once more crowding into Oswald’s personal space. “That shouldn’t even _be_ a suggestion! There’s not a chance in hell I’d ever like you, let alone _love_ you.” He realized a moment too late that that was probably not the best way to respond.

                Oswald flinched away with a look as though he’d been struck. It vanished and was quickly replaced with a carefully neutral expression. “Of course, Jim. That was an absurd suggestion.”

                Jim watched as Oswald turned and left the room. For once, he wished he had controlled his temper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned on them getting along better, but Jim just really wanted to pick a fight I guess...


	3. What Do You Want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing comments and kudos! I'm glad so many people are enjoying this story so far. :)

                “Look, Oswald, I’m…I’m sorry. For what I said yesterday,” Jim said, finally pushed into apologizing when he could no longer stand the complete silence in the manor. Oswald looked up at him from where he sat at the other end of the dining table. He stared at him for a moment or two before going back to his lunch and the paper he’d been perusing. “I didn’t mean what I’d said. That I’d never like you.”

                Oswald sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Really, Jim? Because you seemed rather sincere when you said it. And to be quite honest, I’d expected it after the way you left me in Arkham. Honestly I don’t know why I continued to hope you’d be my friend after that, but I did. The fault is mine for assuming that I was worthy of your friendship.”

                Jim grimaced as Oswald returned his attention to his paper. He got up and walked the length of the table to look down at the other man. “I’m sorry for that too.”

                “For what?” Oswald asked blithely, not even looking at him this time.

                “For leaving you in Arkham. When I found out about Pinewood Farms and the experiments Professor Strange was performing…well, I realized you probably hadn’t been exaggerating about being tortured,” Jim replied. He’d tried not to think about it too much when he first learned of what Professor Strange was up to, but he had been unable to keep himself from feeling guilty.

                “Oh.”

                “Oh?”

                “Yes, ‘oh’.”

                Jim stared at Oswald. Was that it?

                Oswald stood and picked up his plate. “I’m going to my office to discuss business. Feel free to do as you like in the meantime.”

                Jim frowned as he watched Oswald leave the dining room. He had no choice but to follow after a while and wonder just what Oswald was thinking.

 

                While Oswald was in the study, Jim took the time to explore what areas he could reach. The dark wood-paneled hallway had a few ornately framed pictures here and there. Mostly they were of different oil paint landscapes, though a couple were portraits of people Jim didn’t recognize. None of them really lightened up the space; everything felt shadowy and off-putting.

                Jim eventually opened a door and looked inside. The library was quite large and filled to bursting with books stacked in tall elegantly carved shelves. In the corner was a wingback chair next to a small round table with a marble top where an open book lay discarded. Jim couldn’t go too far in and he’d never been interested in spending extended amounts of time in libraries. 

                 The next room Jim entered was a small bathroom that looked rarely used. The room after that was clearly a guest bedroom. Eventually Jim made it to a bedroom that had – he assumed - belonged to a woman.

                The four-poster bed took up much of the space. A vanity and a cream colored fainting couch took up the rest. Cluttering the top of the vanity was a jewelry box, multiple bottles of nail polish, lipsticks, eyeshadow, blush, and a picture frame. Jim examined the picture with a frown. The picture depicted a well-dressed family of three – a strict looking woman with her hair twisted elegantly into a bun, a younger woman with a somewhat bland smile, and a young man with a vacant look to his eyes all posing in front of what Jim thought was one of the fireplaces downstairs.

                Jim left the room, wondering just who the people in the picture were and why the room looked occupied when it was just Oswald living in the manor. He wanted to check the room next door, but the string wouldn’t allow it.  Mildly annoyed Jim headed back in the direction of the study.

                Instead of stopping outside the door, Jim continued past the study and up a flight of stairs. When he reached the top he was sure he was standing in the brightest room in the manor. Sunlight shone through the many tower windows, reflecting off the mirrors behind a small platform. The red wingback chair looked worn.

                Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang. Muttering to himself, he fished the cellphone from his pants’ pocket and answered.

                “Hello?”

                “Jim, good to know you’re still alive,” Harvey greeted.

                “Very funny,” Jim grumped, walking over to the desk on the other side of the small room. “What’s up?”

                “Alright, so I know Barnes didn’t want you coming into work until the whole string thing was fixed, but I also know you’re gonna go stir crazy if you stay holed up in that place with Penguin.”

                “Okay…” Jim found a few documents signed by an Elijah Van Dahl along with suit designs and sewing patterns while rifling through the drawers.

                “I got a lead. A girl was just hit with some of that powder. He tried to stab her, but she escaped. She didn’t get much but it’s enough for a sketch,” Harvey explained. “It might even be enough to track him down.”

                Jim stopped looking through the desk. “That’s great…”

                “But?”

                “But, Oswald would have to join us. The string would also get in the way.”

                “Maybe, maybe not. I think we could work around it. Besides, maybe it’ll be gone by the time we find the guy.”

                “Maybe.”

                “The sketch artist just showed up. I’ll talk to ya later, Jimbo.”

                “Yeah, sure,” Jim said, hanging up and pocketing his phone. The creaking of the stairs alerted him to Oswald’s presence. Jim turned and watched as Oswald looked around the room before turning his attention to him.

                “Was that Bullock?” Oswald asked. “Did he find out who the criminal is?”

                “He has a witness giving a description now,” Jim replied. Oswald nodded and began making his way back down the stairs. Jim followed. “Who’s Elijah Van Dahl?”

                Oswald froze at the bottom step and Jim nearly bumped into him. After a second he continued on. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

                “Why not?” Jim asked, following Oswald downstairs and into the parlor. He was curious now and needed answers.

                “Why does it matter to you, Jim? You want to know about my life now? I’m trying to be indifferent. That’s what you wanted, right?” Oswald replied testily. “So leave me alone.”

                Jim frowned as Oswald poured himself a drink from the small bar in the corner. “No, that’s not what I want.”

                Oswald glanced over his shoulder at Jim. “Then what do you want?” he asked with a huff.

                Jim sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know.” He looked up to see that Oswald was staring at the floor, thinking and occasionally sipping at his drink.

                “Tomorrow we’re going to my club,” Oswald announced, finishing his wine.

                “You got your club back?” Jim asked, the change of subject not lost on him. It was probably for the best, since he really didn’t know what he wanted any more. Well, there was one thing Jim knew he didn’t want. He was tired of arguing.

                “Yes, just today,” Oswald replied. “I need to make sure it wasn’t trashed and to set up my business once again.”

  

* * *

 

                Oswald limped into his club – followed by Gabe and Jim - smiling sincerely for the first time since his father’s death. He had his club back and, so far, it looked like nothing had been changed since he’d left it. Oswald ran his hand over the glossy wooden bar top as he passed by and eventually came to a stop before the stage.

                “Gabe, check around out here for anything that might be amiss. I’m going to see my office,” he said, already making his way there.

                “Yes, Boss,” Gabe replied.

                When Oswald got to his office he shut the door and sighed, closing his eyes. Being around Jim was difficult and it was taking all he had to be indifferent to him. Oswald knew wasn’t even succeeding in that. He _wanted_ to scream at him, tell him off, ask Jim why he couldn’t stand him…beg Jim to love him. But, of course, Oswald did none of that and continued to hope he could drift into apathy.

                Eventually he pushed away from the door and limped over to his desk. He settled in the chair and smiled. Having his club back made things a little better at least. Oswald pulled out some files and began looking them over and making sure everything was in order. At least Butch had had some idea of how to run the club and hadn’t messed everything up. He would just need to re-hire some people and then things should be back to normal. Or, as normal as they could be.

                Oswald picked up his phone. There was one person he might be able to hire right away. Hopefully Victor would be willing to work for him again.

 

* * *

 

                Oswald didn’t protest when Jim sat to his right during dinner that night. He wasn’t sure why Jim would want to sit so close, but if he was supposed to be apathetic towards Jim that meant not caring about where the other man chose to sit.

                “I was thinking about things earlier,” Jim said after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. Oswald waited for him to continue. With a sigh, Jim did. “I was thinking…maybe…we could trick the string?”

                Oswald frowned. “Trick the string? How?” he inquired, giving the other man his full attention.

                Jim looked highly uncomfortable. “I don’t know if it would work, but it’s the only thing I could come up with.” He took a breath, steeling himself, and looked Oswald in the eye. “Maybe we could trick the string into…‘thinking’? that we’re in love.”

                Oswald couldn’t help but gape at Jim. “Pardon?”

                “Maybe pretending like we’re a couple will get the string to disappear,” Jim gritted out, looking as though the suggestion physically pained him.

                Oswald wasn’t sure if he had ingested some drug recently by mistake, but this opportunity seemed too good to be true. Yes, it would just be pretend, but still…Tamping down his excitement, Oswald said, “Are you sure you want to try? You didn’t even want to pretend to be my friend before…”

                “I think it’s our only option.”

                Oswald stared down at his plate. This was a chance for him to be closer to Jim than ever. It would most likely end in heartbreak on his end, but maybe it was worth it. Oswald knew that in order to get what one wanted, one had to be ready to take risks. He looked back up into Jim’s dark blue eyes. “Alright, Jim. Let’s try it.”

                Jim looked a bit surprised. “You sure?”

                “I’m sure,” Oswald said, allowing himself a saucy smile. “But I’m curious as to how you want to go about this. How far are we going with it?”

                Jim gave an annoyed huff. “We’ll start with small things, and see what it takes to get the string to disappear.”

                Oswald leaned back in his chair. “Very well.” A giggle threatened to spill from his lips. He might get to have his first kiss with Jim – and that was more than he’d ever dared hope for.

                Jim still seemed highly uncomfortable with the situation. Oswald stood and picked up their empty plates to bring them to the kitchen. Jim followed and silently helped him with the dishes. As they finished, Jim spoke up, “We should probably, uh, share a bed.”

                Oswald blushed despite himself. “We should?”

                “Yeah,” Jim said, not looking Oswald in the eye.

                Oswald nodded. “Okay.”

                The two made their way upstairs and Jim stopped by the room he’d been using to grab his clothes before they got to Oswald’s room.

                “….You have a lot of pillows,” Jim commented after a few moments.

                Oswald gave a little laugh. “Indeed I do. Is that a problem?”

                “No.”

                As Jim turned to change, Oswald did as well. He tried to keep his curiosity in check and to not glance over his shoulder at Jim; he barely succeeded. Once he’d pulled on his black and gold robe – and made sure Jim was done changing - he moved to settle into the large bed.

                Jim hesitantly lay down beside him, though he left quite a bit of space between them. Oswald stared at the ceiling, aware that Jim was doing the same, and wondered how they were supposed to sleep when there was so much tension in the room.

                He watched Jim out of the corners of his eyes. The other man was as stiff as a board, frowning as usual. Oswald sighed quietly to himself. Jim had only suggested this plan as a last resort and he couldn’t even pretend to be relaxed with him. Oswald rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. At the very least _he_ would get a good night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish Gotham would show us more of the Van Dahl's manor so I could know what rooms there actually are. Oh well...


	4. Coming Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a bit to get this chapter up! Not only was I busy I also had to re-write this chapter four times before I was happy with it. So, please enjoy! :)

                Jim woke to the feeling of soft hair tickling his face. He yawned and curled further around the smaller body in his arms. Everything was nice and warm and he really didn’t want to get up and deal with life at that moment. Besides, it had been a while since he’d last woken up with someone else…

                Jim’s eyes snapped open. He recoiled in horror, scooting quickly to the other side of the bed. Oswald murmured in confusion as he woke and Jim quickly got up, hoping that he didn’t know about the accidental spooning.

                Oswald yawned and rubbed at his eyes as he rolled onto his back. “Jim?” he inquired sleepily.

                “Uh, morning,” Jim greeted, distracting himself by getting dressed. He heard the soft swish of the silk sheets as Oswald moved around and, curiosity getting the best of him, Jim glanced back. Oswald was sitting up, blinking blearily, the robe he was wearing had slipped down a bit exposing a pale shoulder. Jim immediately looked away. 

                He heard Oswald get up and the sounds of him limping to his closet. “There’s a bathroom connected to this room, if you’d like to use it first, Jim,” he said.

                “Alright, thanks,” Jim replied, deciding that would probably be best. As he headed into the bathroom, he looked down at the string that had stubbornly stayed attached to them. It seemed sharing a bed wouldn’t be enough to convince the string they were a couple. If it could even be tricked. Jim sighed.

                When Jim returned to the room Oswald was dressed and standing in front of his floor length mirror. His fingers ran through his hair, fluffing and spiking it to its usual odd style. It almost looked like he was preening. Jim cleared his throat and Oswald jumped. “The bathroom is free,” Jim said.

                “Oh. Thank you,” Oswald replied, a faint pink blush spreading over his cheeks and nose as he shuffled past Jim.

 

                By the time they got downstairs and had breakfast, Jim had steeled himself to try and act more like a boyfriend. As Oswald finished the last of the dishes, Jim moved closer and placed a hand on the curve of Oswald’s lower back. He braced himself, leaned down, and kissed Oswald’s cheek.

                “Jim!?” Oswald exclaimed, looking up at him with wide pale green eyes. 

                “What?” Jim replied, letting his hand slip away.

                Oswald stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and looking away. “Nothing. I just…wasn’t expecting that.” His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides before he turned and quickly left the kitchen.

                Jim frowned and followed after him. That reaction had been weird – not that anything about this situation _wasn’t_ weird. “Oswald, wait! Are you angry at me for that?”

                Oswald stopped where he was, hand on the banister of the stairs. “No, I’m not angry, Jim.”

                “Then what’s with you? You’re acting weirder than usual,” Jim accused, hands on his hips. Oswald had seemed fine with the arrangement last night. If he had changed his mind he should have said something.

                “I don’t want to discuss it,” Oswald replied, lips thinning in annoyance. “Or think about it.”

                “About what? Does this have something to do with whoever Elijah Van Dahl is?”

                “Drop it, Jim.”

                They were glaring at each other now. Jim knew Oswald was stubborn, but he himself was more so. Especially when something piqued his curiosity. “I can’t do that.”

                Oswald limped back towards him, nostrils flared. “Why not?” he demanded.

                “Because, if we’re going to be living together for the time being, and if we’re going to work together at all, I need to know what’s going on here,” Jim explained, holding Oswald’s glare.

                “Maybe I didn’t want to talk about it _because_ I want us to work together,” Oswald snapped. Seeing that Jim was unwilling to relent, he sighed. “But fine. If you are so determined to know what I’ve been through since you so kindly left me in Arkham. I’ll tell you.

                When I told you they were torturing me there, I was quite serious. Being strapped to a chair, collared, and drugged to the point of hallucinating is what I would consider torture anyway. Add to that visions and dreams that featured me watching myself murder my own mother.” Oswald paused to rein in his emotions. Jim was horrified. Had he known that was what Oswald was going through, he would have gotten him out of there. Oswald continued, his voice tight, “But, luckily for me, Professor Strange eventually pronounced me sane and released me back out into the real world…One of the first things I did with my new found freedom and lack of negative emotions, was to go find Butch and Tabitha and apologize.”

                Jim’s brows rose. “What?” That was certainly something he’d never imagine Oswald doing.

                Oswald ignored his interruption - or didn’t hear it. He was staring at the checkered floor. “I was fortunate enough to not be killed and instead they tarred and feathered me.” Jim grimaced. “Not knowing where else to go, I then went to see my good friend Ed. Who told me my new personality was unsettling and promptly threw me out. And so I decided the only place left to go was to my mother’s grave. I don’t know where I would have gone after that, had my father not decided to make an appearance.”

                “Your father?”

                “Yes, that is who Elijah Van Dahl is. Was. He hadn’t known about me and I had thought he was dead all this time. My father brought me here, to his home, and made me feel welcome and safe. I thought everything was finally turning out right for me.” Oswald gave an unamused laugh. “He introduced me to his family; my stepmother Grace, my stepsister Sasha, and my stepbrother Charles.” He practically growled the names.

                Jim had a bad feeling creeping up his spine. He recalled the room he had found upstairs; it had likely belonged to Sasha. But where were the Van Dahls now?

                “It all seemed perfect for a while. I had a family and a home and I didn’t even think about returning to my life of crime. In fact, I was so upset about having been a criminal that I admitted my crimes to my father. And he forgave me! Can you imagine how wonderful that was? I told him I’d killed people, manipulated them, lied, and he said that it didn’t matter to him.” A pained smile twisted Oswald’s lips, but quickly vanished. “Then, of course, my step family found out. Things were decidedly less pleasant after that…”

                Jim watched as a number of emotions flitted across Oswald’s face – anger, hurt, disgust.

                “My father had a heart condition, so when he died I thought at first that was the reason…After the funeral my stepmother planned on kicking me out, but I pleaded with her to let me stay – told her that I’d do anything. So she fired the maid and had me work as their servant instead. I cleaned the house, washed their clothes, and even cooked for them. But Grace didn’t appreciate my _slut_ mother’s food.”

                Jim internally cringed. If anything would make Oswald snap, it would be insults towards his mother. And based on the way Oswald was trembling it still upset him. Jim wasn’t sure if he should allow him to continue his story or not.

                “But I didn’t let that get to me. Not until I found something rather interesting in the kitchen one night. She was very sloppy with her cleanup. You can’t just leave poison in the kitchen cupboard and expect no-one to find it.” Oswald’s grin was downright creepy and he wasn’t even looking at Jim anymore. He was staring past him, gaze unfocused. “I decided then that if mother’s cooking wasn’t up to par, I would try my own recipe. Her face, when she found out she’d eaten her own children for dinner…you should have seen the absolute horror, Jim! It was perfect!”

                Jim was sure his own expression was similar to what Grace’s had been at that moment. “You…” He couldn’t quite finished his statement. Jim felt sick.

                Oswald was starting to look a little ill as well; his manic grin had faded and he was quivering again. “Yes…I admit it’s not my usual style…And _I_ didn’t eat them. I wasn’t far enough gone to do something that awful. I don’t remember much after that. Except for Galavan’s return from the dead. That I remember. I won’t…I’d never do anything like that again. It’s a bit hard to believe I did sometimes. All the time.”

                Jim didn’t know how to respond to all that information. On the one hand, Oswald had made a woman cannibalize her own children. On the other hand, Oswald had had a complete mental breakdown. Still seemed a bit out of it now; but not to the same extent, clearly.

                “…I’m sorry you went through all of that, Oswald,” Jim said eventually.

                Oswald shook his head and turned away. He was breathing oddly. “I didn’t want to think about it…”

                “Oswald?”

                “I never wanted you to know I did something so horrible! I wish I hadn’t…But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

                Jim cautiously approached Oswald and touched his shoulder. Oswald whipped around, smacking Jim’s hand away, eyes wild.

                “Don’t touch me! Leave me alone…” he snapped before hurrying up the stairs. Jim had no choice but to follow him up, but when Oswald locked himself in his office he stayed as far away as the string would allow.

 

* * *

 

                Oswald stood in his office, unable to believe that he had just confessed all of that to Jim. What had gotten into him? Jim would surely have him arrested now and any hope of Jim liking him at all was completely dashed. Oswald felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. 

                He leaned against his desk and took a deep breath. As he calmed his hands stopped shaking. It had felt kind of good to talk about it all, though. _Now_ anyway. During it he felt as though he was going to break down. Oswald looked over his shoulder at the door to his office. Now what?

How could he possible face Jim? Oswald squeezed his eyes shut. Thinking about how he’d been so…unstable merely three months ago was unpleasant. At least he’d finally gotten rid of Grace’s head so he had to be getting better, surely? Maybe Jim would see that.

 

                Eventually Oswald left the office. He had finally gathered what little courage he could and was as ready as he could be to face Jim. When he spotted Jim, the other man was leaning against a wall, looking pensive. Oswald limped over and stood beside him, unsure of how to start up the conversation.

                “Oswald, I’m…sorry.”

                Oswald, who had been staring at the dark wooden floors, looked up at Jim with narrowed eyes. “You’re sorry. Well, I suppose an apology is difficult for you, and is more than I expected.”

                “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jim asked, brows furrowed.

                “Saying you’re sorry means nothing! They’re just empty words,” Oswald spat, unable to help himself. He had thought all his anger had faded inside the office, but apparently not. Jim was apologizing and not threatening to throw him in jail, he should be grateful. It was more than he could have hoped for but still…“If you really felt regretful then you’d prove it. So until - ” Oswald’s rant came to a halt as Jim’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him against his chest. He tensed but didn’t pull away.

                “I _am_ sorry, Oswald. You’ve been through a lot of shit and I know I’ve been an ass.”

                Oswald relaxed and rested his chin on Jim’s shoulder. “That was a more believable apology,” he said quietly, his hands hesitantly splaying against Jim’s chest. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you. Yet.”

                “I figured,” Jim replied.

                Oswald regretfully pulled away and sighed. “You seem…okay with what I told you regarding, well...”

                “I’m not okay with it. But I can sort of understand how it happened,” Jim said, heading downstairs. “I won’t arrest you, because it wouldn’t do you any good. I know you regret going so far.”

                Oswald stared at Jim’s back as he followed. “When did you become such an understanding person?”

                As they entered the parlor, Jim grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. After what happened with Lee…and Ed...and Captain Barnes. I know I’ve been a bastard to a lot of people.”

                Oswald’s brows furrowed. “What happened with them?” He had been so ensconced within his own little world he hadn’t really been paying attention to much else - until Azrael had appeared. “I’m actually a bit surprised this string wasn’t attached to Lee, what with her being your fiancé.”

                “We aren’t together any more. Actually…” Jim sighed. “Lee…she lost the baby. While I was in Blackgate.”

                Oswald’s eyes widened. “Oh. Jim…I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said, placing a hand on Jim’s arm. “How terrible.”

                “It might have been avoidable if I hadn’t been in Blackgate. That was Ed’s fault, by the way. He murdered a policeman and framed me for it. I managed to clear my name, though. But then Barnes got stabbed by Azrael. He’s fine now, but still…” Jim explained, sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Oswald could see why Jim had been on edge recently. The red string couldn’t have come at a worse time.

                Oswald brought him a drink from the bar and sat in the other chair. “Jim, don’t blame yourself for that,” he chided. “And I’m afraid Ed’s success in framing you is partially my fault. I knew he was murdering people and when I visited him after leaving Arkham he had been plotting something against you. I didn’t know what, though. I still should have brought it to your attention.”

                Jim shook his head and drank the whisky Oswald had given him. “I don’t blame you for that, you were…” he trailed off, waving his hand a bit trying to indicate Oswald’s mental state. It was silent for a few moments. “This whole year has been a complete mess.”

                Oswald gave a tentative smile. “Indeed. But maybe that can change?”

                “How?” Jim asked, looking at him carefully.

                “We can work together, Jim. And not just because of the string. Even without it, we work well together,” Oswald replied enthusiastically – this was as good a chance as any to try and at least have Jim as a friend. Jim was quiet so he continued, “We both want this city to be the best it can be. We’re…builders. That at least we have in common.”

                Jim finished his drink and set it on the side table between them. He rubbed his hands together, sighed, and then held one out to Oswald. “I think I have to agree with you on that. We can try working together. Even if we don’t completely agree on _how_ Gotham could be better.”

                Oswald gleefully grasped Jim’s hand, beaming brightly. “Excellent!”


	5. Guilty Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all for the comments and kudos! I really appreciate the time you all take to let me know you enjoy what I write. :)

                 Jim was woken up by the high-pitched ringing of his cellphone. Oswald gave a startled yelp as he was jostled off Jim’s chest where he had draped himself during the night. “Sorry,” Jim said, his voice thick with sleep as he reached over to the nightstand to get his phone.

                “It’s fine,” Oswald mumbled as he rolled over onto his back.

                “Harvey do you know what time it is?” Jim said by way of greeting. He had only just barely fallen asleep a couple hours ago; his mind had kept going back over what Oswald had told him along with replaying his own feelings of guilt. Jim was tired and didn’t appreciate the three a.m. call.

                “Yeah, I do, and I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important,” Harvey replied.

                Something in Harvey’s tone got Jim’s attention and immediately he was more awake. “What happened?”

                A sigh echoed through the phone. “The Captain’s been shot. Fatally. We had gotten a lead on the guy with the powder and gone after him. He tossed the powder at Barnes before shooting him.”

                Jim couldn’t come up with a response. Captain Barnes was dead?

                “Do you want me to call you to let you know when the funeral date is?” Harvey asked.

                “…Yeah.”

                “Okay.”

                Harvey hung up and after a moment Jim put the phone down.

                “Jim? Is everything alright?” Oswald asked, sitting up. Jim shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

                “Captain Barnes was just killed,” Jim answered eventually. “By the guy we’ve been after.” He was surprised when a slender hand covered his own.

                “I’m sorry, Jim,” Oswald said softly. Then, after a moment he added, “And don’t you dare blame yourself.”

                Jim looked at Oswald, eyes wide. How had he known? Jim knew rationally it wasn’t his fault, but still, it felt that way.

                Oswald sighed and squeezed Jim’s hand. “I didn’t know your Captain well, but he seems like the kind of person you would have looked up to. Do you want to talk about it?”

                “Not really. There’s not much to talk about,” Jim replied. Part of him wanted to go back to sleep and pretend that call had never happened; the other part of him didn’t think he could just fall back to sleep and instead wanted to hit something. He did neither and just sat there, staring at his and Oswald’s hands.

                “You should try and sleep, Jim. I know it might seem difficult, but it’s better than sitting here and staying in your head the rest of the night,” Oswald told him. Jim nodded slowly and lay back down. He felt Oswald curl up against him again and surprisingly that helped him fall back to sleep.

 

* * *

               

                Oswald stood beside Jim, holding his umbrella over the both of them as the rain poured down and their breaths turned to mist in the cool spring air. Jim was staring at the grave where Captain Barnes had just been buried. They had waited for everyone else to leave before going to see the grave and now it was just the two of them.

                Oswald had hoped that maybe Jim would feel more comfortable expressing himself because of that, but apparently not. He was concerned. Jim’s face gave no indication of his feelings and it had been that way for the past few days. He was sure Jim would snap at any given moment, but so far that hadn’t happened.

                “Let’s go,” Jim said eventually, his voice flat. He turned and began heading back to the car where Harvey had been waiting and Oswald had to limp quickly to keep up.

                “Hey, Jim, there’s something you should know,” Harvey spoke up as Jim made to get into the car.

                “What?” Jim asked.

                “It looked like the culprit used the last of the powder on Barnes. That means he might show up at Mr. Lǎo’s shop soon,” Harvey said, trying and failing to sound upbeat.

                “Are you suggesting we perform a stake out?” Oswald inquired. “Not to sound pessimistic, but are you sure he won’t be expecting that?”

                Jim shrugged. “He doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to keep to his MO.”

                “I suppose so,” Oswald replied. “It’s something to try, at least. Anything is better than sitting around twiddling our thumbs.”

                “Exactly,” Jim agreed.   

 

                Oswald gave a long suffering sigh as he leaned against the wall. If he had known that they’d be waiting for hours on end in a crappy abandoned room in a dirty old building behind Mr. Lǎo’s shop with nothing to do he would have objected. Or at least brought something to do. Jim didn’t seem to mind the wait though. As for Bullock – well, he was in the car across the street and Oswald didn’t particularly care how the other was faring.

                “How long do we wait, Jim? Normally when I’m waiting for someone there’s a chance they’ll show up within a reasonable amount of time,” Oswald complained.

                “We’ll wait as long as it takes,” Jim growled, glaring out the window at the shop.

                Oswald rolled his eyes and shifted so he could look out the window as well. “Jim, I hate to be the voice of reason.” Jim snorted. “However, given the time that’s passed between when this man ran out of powder and when Bullock alerted us to this fact, it seems likely that he’d already have visited here.”

                Jim finally spared him a glance. “And if he hasn’t?”

                “Then we’ll continue to keep an eye on the shop. But I think it would be beneficial to ask Mr. Lǎo if he’s seen anything suspicious,” Oswald said. He placed his hand on Jim’s arm. “Jim. I know you want to catch this man. I do too. Believe me when I say this string is as much of an inconvenience to me as it is to you. But that means we can’t be stupid and impulsive.”

                Oswald didn’t know what sort of reaction he’d been expecting, but Jim kissing him was not it. Before he could even properly register what had happened, Jim had stepped away saying, “Fine. We’ll go talk to Mr. Lǎo.”

                “Um, excuse me, but what was that?” Oswald spluttered, limping after Jim.

                “Another attempt at getting rid of the string,” Jim replied, heading towards the front door. “Obviously it didn’t work though.”

                Thrilled at having his first kiss be with Jim, but also annoyed at how unromantic it was, Oswald was unsure what to say to that. How did one respond to a kiss and run? “That seemed like a pretty poor attempt to me,” he said eventually, his tone petulant.

                Oswald was unprepared for Jim to turn and grab his face. He half expected to be hit but was pleasantly surprised by receiving a second kiss. Oswald quickly returned the kiss as he clutched at Jim’s shirt. He felt Jim’s rough hand slide down his neck and reach around to grip his hair. Oswald didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t gentle, it felt amazing, and when Jim pulled away he was left feeling a bit dazed.

                “Better?” Jim asked gruffly. Oswald nodded dumbly and followed as Jim turned and left the building.

 

                “Detectives. Mr. Cobblepot. I thought you might show up sooner,” Mr. Lǎo greeted Jim, Oswald, and Harvey as they entered the shop. “And I see the Red String of Fate is still visible.”

                “Mr. Lǎo, we need to know if your customer for the powder came back,” Jim said, getting straight to the point.

                Mr. Lǎo brows furrowed. “Did my call not go through to the GCPD? He returned here two days ago.”

                Oswald refrained from saying ‘I told you so’. Though his smug look didn’t go unnoticed by Jim, who glared at him.

                “No, we didn’t get the call,” Harvey said. “Things have been…busy.”

                “Did you get a name? Or can you describe what he looks like?” Jim demanded.

                “I’m afraid I didn’t see his face - the hood he wore was casting a shadow - and the name he gave me is likely fake,” Mr. Lǎo replied, unbothered by Jim’s rudeness. “He said his name is Joey Smith.”

                “Yeah, there’s no way that’s not fake,” Harvey agreed.

                “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be found,” Oswald said with a grin. “He may use that alias elsewhere. I have a few people who would be willing to help us find him.”

                “We’re not killing him,” Jim snapped.

                Oswald raised an eyebrow. “I never said they’d kill him. Just find him. Your assumption that I’d murder him is rather disheartening, Jim.”

                “Oh, because you’re so innocent and trustworthy,” Harvey said with a snort.

                “Indeed,” Oswald replied with a smirk.

                “That’s enough.” Jim turned back to Mr. Lǎo. “Thanks for the information.”

                “Of course, Detective Gordon,” Mr. Lǎo said as they left. “Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

                Jim was pacing in front of the fireplace, waiting for Oswald to finish his phone call. He stopped and looked out one of the large windows, silently grinding his teeth. The rain had stopped and the sun was setting, casting a muted yellow-green glow over everything.

                “Gabe and a few others are looking for any leads involving a Joey Smith. He doesn’t seem like he’d be smart enough to not use the same alias in multiple places so…Jim?” Oswald’s voice which had been rather upbeat took on a concerned tone.

                Jim turned as Oswald approached. “Good. With your men _and_ Harvey looking for information we should be able to find him soon,” he replied.

                Oswald sighed. “Jim, maybe you should do something to keep your mind off of the situation for a bit.”

                “Like what?”

                “Well…” Oswald bit his lip. Jim waited. The silence was stretching on uncomfortably long and Jim was about to get annoyed when Oswald continued, “There are ways couples relieve stress, or so I’ve heard. The string might even disappear.”

                “What exactly are you suggesting?” Jim snapped. He hated when people didn’t just outright say what they meant - especially when Oswald was the one being vague.

                “Sex, Jim. I’m suggesting sex,” Oswald replied just as irritably. Silence. Jim watched as pink bloomed across his face. Less irritably he added, “It’s the last thing we haven’t tried, right?”

                “Uh…yeah…that’s true,” Jim agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. They stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments. With a huff of determination Jim surged forward, grabbed Oswald by the lapels, and crushed their lips together. He’d likely never admit it, but he had maybe, sort of, enjoyed kissing Oswald before. They parted and Jim looked into Oswald’s beautiful pale green eyes. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

                Oswald’s lips curled up at the corners in a shy yet teasing smile. “You have more experience with this sort of thing - in a general sense - Jim. Just do what you normally would. I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

                What he normally would? Right, well, Jim could do that if he didn’t think too hard about the situation. He just worried if he’d be able to get it up or not once they got to that point. Oswald’s lips pressing sweetly, cautiously, against his own quickly chased away all those thoughts. Jim wrapped his arms around Oswald and pulled him flush against his body, a hand sneaking down to squeeze Oswald’s ass.

                “Jim!” Oswald gasped, eyes widening.

                Jim couldn’t help the small smirk that appeared on his face. “You told me to do what I normally would,” he said. “Or did you not like that?”

                Oswald blushed in response. “I just wasn’t expecting such a bold move,” he replied primly, looking away with his nose in the air.

                Jim’s eyes landed on Oswald’s pale neck and instead of replying he leaned down and began pressing open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of it. He heard Oswald’s soft moan and felt his arms curl around his shoulders. Jim clutched at Oswald’s hips as he sucked a mark into the crook of his neck, getting a much louder moan from the slighter man. He didn’t remember moving them but somehow he ended up pressing Oswald up against the fancy wood paneling as he kissed and nipped at Oswald’s jaw. Jim pulled back a bit to admire his handiwork.  

                Oswald’s slim chest was rising and falling rapidly as he panted, his hooded eyes were blown with desire, and a pretty pink flush had stained his nose and cheeks. But what really caught Jim’s eye were the marks he’d left on Oswald’s neck – the bruises stark against the thin porcelain skin. Jim had never been one for shows of possession, but for some reason this sight was making him hard.

                Long fingers brushed against his cheeks before he was dragged forward into yet another kiss. “Jim…we…we should go upstairs,” Oswald murmured against Jim’s lips.

                “Yeah,” Jim agreed, “we should.”


	6. Let's Play Pretend

                Oswald’s coat fell to the checkered floor of the bedroom. Warm, breathy moans filled Jim’s ear as he kissed Oswald’s jaw, tugging off the brocade tie, and popping open the buttons of his shirt one by one. His own shirt was being meticulously unbuttoned by trembling fingers. A nip to the lobe of his ear had Jim groaning in pleasure.

                They stumbled their way over to the four-poster bed - losing their shoes along the way. Jim pulled away briefly to turn the bedside lamp on, but Oswald stopped him by pulling him close again by the wrist. “You got any condoms or lube in here?” Jim asked between kisses.

                Oswald shook his head sheepishly. “Not condoms. I never…well I never thought I’d be in the position where they’d be necessary. There is lube though.” Oswald looked up at Jim through his lashes. “Will that pose a problem?”

                “Are you clean?” Jim asked. He was worked up now and didn’t really like the thought of stopping.

                “Oh, yes. I am,” Oswald replied, absentmindedly rubbing his hands over Jim’s chest and shoulders. “I trust that you are as well?”

                “Yeah,” Jim said. “I’m clean.” With that out of the way, they went back to kissing. Jim found it strangely addicting, kissing Oswald.

                Oswald yelped as he tumbled backwards onto the bed with Jim following him down. Jim sat up and removed his undershirt as Oswald shifted into a more comfortable position. When he looked down at him, even in the dark, Jim was struck by the intensity of Oswald’s adoring gaze. Those looks would be the death of him, surely. He didn’t think he could handle that.

                “Roll over,” Jim said, his voice taut. Oswald blinked up at him for a moment before carefully turning over onto his stomach. He gave a start as Jim’s hand slid over his back, followed by gentle bites to the nape of his neck.

                Jim shed his own pants and underwear before reaching around Oswald to do the same. He leaned over to the bedside table and rooted around in the drawer until he felt the bottle of lube. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do from that point. “Oswald?”

                “Yes, Jim?” Oswald replied, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at him.

                Jim cleared his throat. “Uh…I don’t want to hurt you, so…I don’t know how to go about that.”

                “Oh, well, I have done some reading. I believe you need to use your fingers to,” Oswald paused and Jim assumed he was blushing, “to prepare me. Or I can do it myself if you’d rather.”

                Jim pressed the bottle into Oswald’s hand. “It’d probably be best if you do it.”

                “Very well.”

                 Jim watched with wide eyes as Oswald slicked his fingers, lifted his surprisingly pert ass into the air, and reached back to work his fingers into himself. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he found himself licking his lips.

                Oswald whined as he pushed a long finger inside – it had been a while since he’d done anything like this. He’d certainly never had an audience before and he was suddenly glad for the lack of light in the room. It didn’t take long before he added a second finger and began properly stretching himself.

                Jim found it impossible to keep his hands to himself. He reached out and grabbed Oswald’s ass with both hands and spread him open further. Oswald’s keening was like music to his ears and he wanted to hear more. Jim leaned forward and bit at the back of his neck.

                “Oh! Jim,” Oswald mewled. His hips twitched as he pressed a third finger into himself. It didn’t take long after that for him to start thrusting all three fingers eagerly inside. “ _Jim_ …Ah!”

                Maybe it was egotistical, maybe not, but Jim liked the sound of Oswald moaning his name like that. “Are you ready yet?”

                “ _Yes_ , Jim…ah! Please,” Oswald begged, quickly removing his fingers.

                “Fuck,” Jim muttered, pulling back. He grabbed the lube and coated his cock generously. He tossed the bottle aside and lined himself up. “You sure you’re ready?”

                “Jim, _please!_ ”

                Jim gripped Oswald’s hips and thrust in. Oswald gave a shocked cry and tensed up. “Damn! You okay?” Jim asked, unable to push in further with Oswald tightening around him. “You gotta relax if we’re going to do this.”

                Oswald nodded. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just…just give me a second.” It hurt but Oswald wasn’t going to admit that. He would be damned if he let this opportunity pass just because of a little pain.

                Jim waited and when Oswald managed to relax enough, he began pushing in again – albeit a bit more gently. With a few slow thrusts he bottomed out and gave a grunt of pleasure. Oswald was tight and hot and Jim didn’t think he’d felt anything better.

                Oswald felt Jim’s forehead dropping onto his back, hot puffs of breath ghosting across his skin. It distracted him from the pain; but when the pain passed he could only concentrate on how full he felt. And how wonderful that sensation was.

                When he felt he could, Jim began making shallow thrusts of his hips. Oswald’s whines of desperation encouraged him on and soon he was fucking into him. Jim dug his blunt nails into Oswald’s hips and he was sure he would leave marks, though if Oswald wasn’t complaining neither was he.

                “Ahh! More!” Oswald keened as Jim thrust harder and deeper. Jim changed his angle a bit, leaning forward more to kiss and suck at Oswald’s neck, and Oswald wailed. He only managed a few more thrusts before he felt Oswald constrict around him. “ _Jim!_ ”

                Jim groaned loudly at the feeling. Even as Oswald went limp beneath him, Jim kept going, seeking out his own pleasure. Oswald’s little whimpers were erotic and he couldn’t keep himself from pounding into him. Soon enough Jim was coming as well. “ _Fuck,_ Oswald…”

  

* * *

 

                Oswald was awake but he didn’t open his eyes. Not yet. He needed to think without the distraction of, well, everything. He was laying on his back in a patch of dried cum. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot, but his leg was hurting and he didn’t want to move. Oswald’s rump was sore too, but that was strangely pleasurable in a way.

                Opening his eyes, Oswald turned to look at Jim who was still asleep. He should get up and get dressed before Jim could see him in the light. Even with the curtains drawn there was enough sunlight getting through to worry him. But he couldn’t bring himself to get up. Instead, Oswald looked down at his hand to where the red string was tied. Still. The sound of a soft sigh and the slight shifting beside him told Oswald Jim was waking up.

                “….How long have you been awake?” Jim asked, sounding a bit groggy.

                Oswald shrugged and pulled the blankets further up his body. “Not long. Maybe a minute at most,” he replied, looking at Jim again. Jim stared at him with an unreadable expression, then his gaze fell to where the blanket had been pulled up under Oswald’s chin.

                “Did I hurt you?” Jim asked, moving to tug at the covers.

                “I’m fine,” Oswald said, gripping the blankets tighter. Jim was apparently having none of it, though, and he managed to pull the blankets away. Oswald watched as Jim’s eyes swept over him, clearly taking in the scars that had accumulated over the years. A hand reached over and gently passed over one on his stomach and Oswald sat up. Ignoring the pain in his backside, he stood shakily, grabbed his robe, and limped quickly into the bathroom.

 

                When Oswald emerged from the bathroom some minutes later, he was accosted by a shirtless Jim who crowded him up against the closed door. He briefly noted that Jim was at least wearing pants. “Jim, what are you doing?” he exclaimed.

                “Those scars…is that why you wouldn’t let me turn the light on last night?” Jim demanded.

                Oswald blinked. “What?”

                “You kept me from turning on the light last night. Is that why?” Jim asked, the hostility fading from his tone.

                Oswald hadn’t expected Jim to have noticed that. Or at least remembered. His lips thinned. “I suppose that was part of the reason.”

                Confusion shone in Jim’s cobalt eyes. “Part? Why else?”

                “Because if the light was on you would have seen me properly,” Oswald replied tightly.

                “And?” Jim raised an eyebrow at him.

                Oswald was beginning to think he sometimes overestimated Jim’s common sense. “And? _And_ I’m a man, Jim. I figured it would be easier for you if you could pretend you were sleeping with a woman.”

                Jim’s arms dropped from either side of Oswald’s head. “Oh.” Oswald moved around Jim and grabbed his clothes. He was about to disappear back into the bathroom to properly change when Jim’s broad hand closed around his arm. “Wait.”

                “What, Jim?” Oswald asked impatiently.

                “You didn’t answer my earlier question,” Jim said. “Did I hurt you last night?”

                There was genuine concern in his tone and Oswald felt his heart give a flutter. _That_ was why Oswald was still hopelessly in love with Jim. The man could be an asshole at times, but at others he was surprisingly sweet. “No, Jim. No more than necessary.”

                Jim sighed in relief and nodded. “Good.”

                Oswald responded with a small smile and went to go get changed.

 

* * *

 

                Oswald thought he’d be able to handle the situation. He had told himself firmly that he would be fine with just being friends with Jim. Then he had told himself just as firmly that the sex would not mean anything to him, because it meant nothing to Jim. Oswald could distance his emotions from the act, surely.

                He was very wrong and he hated himself for it. Why had he thought that he wouldn’t be upset? Yes, Jim was considerate as far as making sure they both got off and he made sure to be gentle. Oswald appreciated both those things; however, he still was bothered. Every time was the same – which wouldn’t be much of a problem if it didn’t mean that they were in complete darkness with Oswald on his hands and knees.

                Oswald would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t hurt that they couldn’t face each other, in the light. He wished they were an actual couple and it stung each and every time he had to remind himself that this was all an act. Jim barely tolerated him as a friend. This was only to get rid of the string.

                And as for that, the Red String of Fate stayed attached to their fingers with seemingly no intention to disappear anytime soon. Oswald glared at the scarlet annoyance as he sat in his office. He was too busy brooding over it and the whole debacle with Jim to pay too much attention to the files on his desk that Gabe had dropped off for him upon his request.

                What a fine mess this whole thing had turned out to be.

 

* * *

 

                Despite Oswald’s growing frustration with their bedroom activities, Jim actually seemed to be treating him more kindly than before, snapped at him less. Whether it was pretense for the string or genuine, Oswald didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.     

                Currently they were sitting on a stone bench in the beautiful English garden out back. Jim had had a couple of drinks, as had Oswald, and they were laughing at something. Oswald already forgot what it was that had been said. Being slightly tipsy always made him bolder, and so he didn’t hesitate in leaning forward to kiss Jim on the cheek.

                “What was that for?” Jim asked, looking at him quizzically.

                Oswald stared at Jim for a moment, contemplating the question. “I don’t know. Nothing in particular I suppose. I just enjoy your company, Jim. I always do.”

                Jim regarded him silently. Oswald couldn’t tell what he thought of that response. Finally Jim spoke, “I guess I don’t _dislike_ your company.”

                Oswald blinked. Then he grinned and kissed Jim again, on the mouth this time. “Good to hear,” he giggled. Jim gave an amused snort and he kissed back.

                The kiss was slow, almost lazy. Oswald hummed happily against his lips when he felt Jim’s hand land on his hip and begin to knead it. He rested his own hand on Jim’s bicep, appreciatively squeezing the muscle he felt there. If neither had been slightly drunk, Oswald would have considered it the perfect kiss. Then again, maybe it was anyway.

                Eventually they pulled apart and Oswald turned slightly to look at the sunset. “It feels deceptively peaceful out here,” he remarked wistfully. Jim didn’t reply. Oswald didn’t mind, though. Jim was still sitting there beside him; he hadn’t left in a strop, he hadn’t snapped at Oswald, and he seemed content to just sit there quietly. Oswald wouldn’t complain about that.

                “Do you ever think about leaving Gotham?” Jim asked after what might have been minutes or even an hour.

                “No. I’ve told you before, Gotham is my home. It would probably be in my best interest if I left, but I don’t want to. Why? Do you want to leave Gotham?” Oswald replied, not taking his eyes off the soft pink and orange clouds sitting low in the hazy lavender sky.

                “Honestly? No I don’t. Like you said, it would probably be better if I did. But I can’t. For better or worse, Gotham is my home too,” Jim said. “Murderous sociopaths, annoying magic red strings, and all.”

                Oswald smiled and leaned his head against Jim’s shoulder. “Indeed. Any other city would be far too boring in comparison.”

                If Jim’s arm came to rest around Oswald’s waist, neither mentioned it. And if Jim pressed a kiss to Oswald’s temple, nothing was said about that either. Both were too content to even notice the fact the string had gone from a vibrant scarlet to a slightly less opaque crimson.  


	7. Making Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. Hopefully the amount of smut in this chapter makes up for that. :P

                Jim stared at the dark ceiling, wishing sleep would just come already. Oswald was asleep, curled up on his side facing away from him. The moonlight managed to creep through the curtains in such a way that it landed on Oswald’s porcelain back and shoulders, giving his skin an unearthly glow.

                His thoughts kept straying back to the sex they’d been having every day that week - despite his best attempts to _not_ think about it. Jim felt, well, guilty. Oswald had been a virgin before this and the only reason he wasn’t now was because of the string and Jim’s stupid plan. He should have had his first time with someone special and it should have meant something. Instead it was a quick fuck with Jim in complete darkness.

                Jim sighed and rolled over to frown at the closet. Every time he thought about trying to do things differently – such as maybe turning the light on for once – he chickened out. Surprisingly the sex was good. Very good. Jim had thought fucking Oswald would be a terrible experience and that he wouldn’t even be able to do it. But that wasn’t an issue at all. Which was confusing.

                Thinking it over more, Jim wondered if it would really be so awful having the light on and actually looking at Oswald during the act. Just picturing the expressions Oswald might make was getting his lower half interested again. Maybe they could try it.

                Jim rolled again, this time to face Oswald’s back. He shifted closer and wrapped an arm around his slender waist. He couldn’t undo the past, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make things a bit better going forward. Burying his face in the back of Oswald’s neck, Jim finally managed to fall asleep.

                

* * *

 

                Oswald was moaning sweetly beneath Jim as he kissed his way down from his shoulder blade to the curve of his lower back. His hands moved gently over the bumps of faint scars before reaching down to grab Oswald’s ass. When he felt Oswald was sufficiently distracted, Jim leaned over to the nightstand and flicked on the light.

                ‘Beautiful’ was the first word that came to mind as Jim looked down at Oswald, now properly visible in the warm golden glow of the lamp.

                Oswald lifted his head from where it had been pillowed on his arms. “Jim?”

                “Turn over,” Jim said, coaxing Oswald to roll over onto his back.

                Oswald’s hands came to rest on either side of his head as he settled and looked up at Jim with wide sea foam eyes.  “Jim, I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

                Jim slid his hands down Oswald’s ivory thighs. He gripped them possessively and pushed them open. As Jim moved between them he leaned down and kissed Oswald quiet. “I thought we could do it this way this time.”

                Oswald curled his arms around Jim’s neck. “Are you sure?” he asked, looking doubtful. “Won’t it be…distasteful to you?”

                Jim lifted Oswald’s legs up to wrap around his waist. “I’m sure, Oswald,” he replied. Jim was glad he sounded more confident in that response than he felt. He knew he made the right decision, though, when Oswald relaxed and smiled, his lashes fluttering bashfully.

                “If you’re sure, then,” Oswald said, lightly scraping his fingers through the short hair at the base of Jim’s skull. Jim groaned at the feeling and kissed Oswald again, getting a happy sigh from the other. Slowly he made his way down Oswald’s body, kissing from collar bone to hip.

                Oswald was happily surprised by Jim’s attitude. He didn’t know what had caused it but right now that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the wonderful feeling of Jim’s lips against his skin and the firm grip Jim had on his hips.

                Jim shifted to lay between Oswald’s thighs. Oswald made a noise of surprise when Jim lifted Oswald’s legs to drape over his shoulders and pushed his hips up a bit. Jim had done a bit of research, and though he was a bit unsure of how Oswald might react to this next part, he wanted to show somehow that he regretted being as cold as he had been.

                “OH! Oh my…” Oswald mewled. Jim flicked his tongue over Oswald’s hole again. Growing bolder, he flattened his tongue against Oswald’s rim and slowly dragged it up, getting a long, high moan of approval. Jim continued to lick him even as Oswald’s thighs pressed, trembling, against his head. The needy and desperate noises that spilled from the slighter man’s lips were worth it for sure.

                Oswald felt his toes curl in pleasure and he was sure he was babbling nonsense, but he didn’t care. He had never felt anything so sinfully good before. Oswald glanced down and nearly wished he hadn’t. The sight of Jim’s head between his thighs was more than he could bare. “Jim… _Oh_ …More!”

                Oswald’s pleas and the incessant throb of his own need had Jim pulling away so that he could suck marks into Oswald’s collar bones. Jim was surprised when Oswald gripped his hair and encouraged him to kiss him on the lips.  As they kissed, Jim reached beneath the mountain of pillows to grab the bottle of lube they’d started keeping there. He found it quickly and coated his fingers, all the while pressing open mouthed kisses to Oswald’s neck. He stroked over Oswald’s rim a few times before pushing two fingers into him.

                “Ah! _Jim_ ,” Oswald gasped, throwing his head back.

                “Feeling good?”

                “Yes!” Jim crooked his fingers and Oswald keened. “Jim, please!”

                “Alright, okay,” Jim agreed, licking his lips. He slicked himself and pushed into Oswald, keeping a secure hold on his bad leg. Jim felt Oswald digging his short nails into his back briefly before his thin hands slid down to Jim’s biceps.

                “This is…much better,” Oswald panted, gazing up at Jim through long black lashes. Jim had to agree. It was much better. Oswald’s moan rose in pitch as Jim thrust eagerly into him.

                “You feel so damn good,” Jim grunted, his forehead practically resting against Oswald’s own. Oswald was already out of it, chanting Jim’s name as he rolled his hips up to meet Jim’s powerful thrusts. Jim moved one hand from Oswald’s hip to his soft hair and griped it tight.

                Oswald gazed up into Jim’s lust blown eyes. The way Jim was looking at him…it was different. There was some emotion there that Oswald couldn’t quite grasp. Before he could really think on it too hard, Jim nailed his prostate and Oswald was thrown into delirium.

                Jim practically growled as Oswald kissed and nipped at his jaw between gasps of his name and pleads for more. He could tell Oswald was close, and reached between them to stroke him. Oswald’s back arched and he came with a shout, the clench of his satiny muscles sending Jim over the edge as well.

                He hadn’t realized he’d collapsed atop Oswald until he felt slim fingers brushing through his hair and stroking over his back. “Sorry,” Jim muttered as he tried to push up and off. He was too out of energy to move, though, and resolved to wait a few minutes.

                “It’s quite alright, Jim,” Oswald replied, smiling serenely.

                Eventually Jim managed to get up and clean them both up before sliding into bed. Oswald rolled over and curled up against his side with his head on Jim’s chest, still looking incredibly happy. “Night, Oswald.”

                “Good night, Jim.”

  

* * *

 

                Oswald stretched with a smile as he made his way towards his large claw-foot tub. Last night had been beyond wonderful. He hadn’t expected something like that from, Jim. Oswald gave a startled yelp as arms wrapped around him from behind.

                “Morning,” Jim said against his shoulder.

                “Jim!” Oswald exclaimed, a hand pressed to his heart. After a moment he smiled. “Good morning. But what, may I ask, are you doing in here?”

                Jim’s hands moved to rest on Oswald’s hips. “I figured if we showered together it would go quicker,” he replied.

                Oswald blinked. Yet another moment of unexpectedness from Jim. “I was going to take a bath, but I suppose a shower is fine,” he replied. The feeling of Jim gently stroking his hipbones was rather distracting. “But I have a hard time believing it’s going to be faster.”

                “Is that a problem?” Jim asked, moving a hand up to toy with Oswald’s chest.

                “N-not at all,” Oswald said with a hitched breath.

                Jim walked him over to the sink and pressed him forward against the counter-top. “Maybe we should just continue here and use the shower to actually get clean after.”

                Oswald could only nod in response. He was a little shocked by the sight of himself and Jim in the mirror above the sink. Oswald didn’t know how Jim could be alright with looking at him. He was too scrawny, too pale, and his body was littered with scrapes and scars.

                Jim seemed to sense his negative thoughts because Oswald was quickly distracted by a kiss and the feeling of Jim rutting against his ass. Oswald gasped as he was bent over the counter-top and he had to press his hands against the mirror to keep from smacking into it. His legs were gently spread and Jim easily sunk into him. “ _Jim_ …”

                When Oswald opened his eyes he was met with his own reflection. A flush quickly spread from his cheeks down to his neck. Jim’s hands roamed Oswald’s body as he rocked into him and his face was buried in the crook of Oswald’s neck. Oswald couldn’t contain his delighted moans. “Oh, Jim. Jim!”

                “Fuck,” Jim growled against his skin. He picked up the speed of his thrusts and Oswald keened. Jim lifted his head. Their eyes locked and Oswald’s breath caught in his throat. It was quickly punched back out of him as Jim fucked him harder than before. “Good…So good for me,” Jim panted into his ear.

                “Jim, please…” Oswald whined - though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was begging for. It felt so good already; the feeling of being stretched out and full was something Oswald hadn’t expected to become addicted to, but he was.

                It really didn’t take long for either of them to cum. Oswald was grateful Jim had strength left enough to hold him up because his legs felt like jelly. For a few moments he enjoyed the afterglow with his head resting back against Jim’s shoulder and Jim’s cock still inside him.

                “Don’t fall asleep again,” Jim said, lightly pinching Oswald’s hip.

                “I won’t,” Oswald replied drowsily. He felt Jim slip out of him and sighed at the loss. Jim’s hand on his lower back encouraged him to move towards the shower and soon they were both standing beneath the gentle spray of water.

                Oswald was rinsing his hair when he felt Jim’s hands on him again. This time, though, they felt more exploratory and less like he was about to be pushed against the nearest surface.

                “Some of these scars look very old,” Jim commented finally.

                Oswald glanced back and, for a moment, he couldn’t help but admire the way the water ran over Jim’s muscles. He turned away again and sighed. “That’s because some of them are. School was a very unpleasant experience.”

                Jim made a noise of surprise. “School?”

                “Did you think I was always so popular, Jim?” Oswald replied sarcastically. “Most of the scars are from after I started working for Fish. I try not to think about any of them too much.”

                Jim didn’t say anything and the light stroking of his fingers continued for a bit. “They don’t bother me, if that’s what made you nervous earlier. And I don’t think you’re ugly.”

                “…Oh,” Oswald replied eventually, too shocked to respond properly. Jim gently caressed his hip before his hands were gone.

  

* * *

 

                Oswald was in a fantastic mood. It even seemed to be rubbing off on Jim, who occasionally smiled at him throughout the morning. The only thing that would make the whole situation better is if the string finally disappeared. Actually, Oswald could swear the Red String of Fate seemed a little more translucent. But he wasn’t positive and so he didn’t mention it to Jim.   

                “Boss, we got news.”

                Oswald looked up from the files he and Jim been perusing as Gabe entered the living room. “What?” he asked eagerly. “Tell me.”

                “We found a guy who knows where Joey Smith might be,” Gabe reported.

                “Really?” Jim’s eyebrows had risen quite high on his forehead. “I honestly didn’t think we’d find anyone.”

                “He isn’t talkin’ though,” said Gabe, frowning.

                Oswald grinned and stood. “Well, we’ll just have to make him talk. Where is he?”

                “I had some guys bring him down to one of your warehouses,” Gabe replied.

                “One of them? How many do you have?” Jim asked as Oswald limped from the room.

                “Enough,” Oswald said with a smirk, grabbing his umbrella. “Let’s go!”


	8. Fate

                The large metal doors slid open and Oswald strode through, his umbrella tapping hurriedly across the concrete. Jim followed close behind, frowning. Oswald’s shark-like grin grew when he spotted his target – a lanky man covered in piercings - tied to a pole. “Welcome, sir. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable,” he said, honey practically dripping from each word.

                “Fuck you!” the man spat, struggling against his bonds.

                “Tsk, tsk, your manners are rather lacking, aren’t they?” Oswald replied looking disappointed. His smile soon returned and he tilted his head. “Well, no matter. I have a simple question for you, and it would be in your best interest to answer the first time.”

                The man glared at him and didn’t respond. Defiance practically radiated from him.

                “Where can I find the man who’s going by the name Joey Smith?” Oswald asked, leaning forward against his umbrella.

                “I ain’t tellin’ you shit,” the man snapped.

                Oswald sighed and turned. Jim stood off to the side with Gabe and a few other men, glowering, his arms crossed. “Gabe, come here.” Gabe lumbered over. “Do you have your knife?”

                “Yes, Boss.”

                Oswald turned back to the man. “Now, here’s how this will work, my friend. I’m going to ask you Mr. Smith’s whereabouts again. Each time I have to ask, you’ll lose a finger.”

                The man tried and failed to hide his nerves. His eyes darted around and he struggled even more.

                “Oswald, isn’t that a bit much?” Jim asked.

                “No,” Oswald replied.

                “I shouldn’t have phrased it that way. It is too much,” Jim said tersely.

                Oswald looked over his shoulder and replied airily, “Then maybe you should look away, Jim. I have business to conduct.” He looked back up at the man. “So, where is Joey Smith?”

                “I don’t know.”

                “Wrong answer.” A blood curdling scream echoed throughout the warehouse as Gabe lopped off the man’s left pinky finger. “Where is Joey Smith?”

                “I’m tellin’ you I don’t know!” the man shouted. “Shit!”

                Oswald gave a flick of his wrist and Gabe cut off another finger. Another scream pierced the air. “I don’t believe you. Where is Joey Smith? Surely he isn’t worth this sort of pain?”

                The man bit his lower lip so hard it began to bleed. He shook his head. Another finger was removed. Jim was glaring at the floor of the warehouse but he didn’t interrupt. The process repeated a fourth time. Then a fifth.

                Oswald shuffled closer and peered up at the trembling man. “I’m losing my patience. If you don’t answer, I’ll cut off something much more valuable to you.” He glanced down pointedly. “Where. Is. Joey Smith?”

                “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!” the man broke down, tears streaking his cheeks. “He’s been stayin’ in Skirley Apartments. That’s all I know, I promise! I promise!” 

                Oswald smiled brightly. “That wasn’t so hard was it? I appreciate your help. I think I’ll reward you by ending your suffering quickly.” He stepped back and pulled a gun from his coat. The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Before he could protest or beg, Oswald fired the bullet straight into his head. He gave a satisfied hum. “Excellent. Someone clean this up.”

 

                “You could have gone about that differently. Why not just smack him around a bit and let him live?” Jim said as he and Oswald got into the car.

                “Because that wouldn’t have guaranteed the truth. This way gave him a reason to tell the truth. And killing him prevents him from letting Joey Smith know we’re coming for him,” Oswald replied as Gabe drove them away from the warehouse. “We may not know what apartment Joey is staying in, but that doesn’t matter. We can figure that out easily enough.”  

                “Yeah, fine,” Jim agreed, though he still didn’t sound too happy. “I’ll call Harvey and let him know where to go. He can arrest the guy once we’ve found him.”

                “Don’t be mad at me, Jim. Would you rather me have let that man go so he could report you to the police?” Oswald said, his brows furrowed and his lips pulled down into a small pout.

                Jim sighed and passed his hand over his face. “I’m not mad at you, just the situation I guess.” He looked over at Oswald and his lips twitched in amusement. “Don’t pout. You’re an adult.”

                Oswald laughed and smiled. “It worked, though.” He heard Jim snort and he grinned.

 

* * *

 

                Oswald and Jim strode purposefully into the dark, grimy lobby of the Skirley Apartments. “We need to know which apartment belongs to a man named Joey Smith,” Oswald told the older man behind the front desk. He hoped the man wouldn’t give them trouble; he didn’t want to waste his energy before they got to Joey Smith.

                The man looked first at Oswald. Then at Jim. Then back to Oswald. After a moment he seemed to decide it would be better to cooperate because he began looking through his register. “There’s a Mr. Smith in apartment 518…” The landlord pulled off his glasses to clean them and muttered, “He’s late on his rent.”

                “Do you have a spare key?” Jim asked.

                “Yep,” the landlord replied slowly.

                “May we have it?” Oswald prompted, not even attempting to hide his annoyance.

                “Sure,” the man agreed. He rifled through a drawer before pulling out a key ring.

                Oswald tapped his fingers against the wood of the front desk as the landlord looked for the correct key. The ticking of the clock echoed off the walls of peeling wallpaper. There was a steady _plink_ of water dripping from a sink in the back room. Floorboards creaked above their heads. Occasionally the old man gave a sniff and a gross hacking sound in the back of his throat that had Oswald shuddering in disgust.

                After several painstaking minutes the landlord found the key for 518 and set it on the desk. Oswald snatched up the key. “Is there an elevator?”

“Yep. Down the hall. Can’t miss it,” the landlord said, putting the key ring away. As Oswald and Jim headed down the hall, the man continued, “It doesn’t work though.”

                Oswald nearly turned back to beat the man with his umbrella but Jim stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He grit his teeth and looked up at the many flights of stairs. Wonderful.

 

                “Are you okay?” Jim asked as they finally stopped on the correct floor.

                Oswald’s leg was protesting harshly, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. “I’m fine, Jim,” he replied. Then after a moment, “Thank you for asking.”

                “We can take a second before we go in,” Jim offered, placing a hand on Oswald’s arm.

                Oswald shook his head and gave him a small smile. “I said I’m fine. I’ve pushed through much worse. I just want to get this over with.”

                “Yeah, well, we won’t get far if you collapse,” Jim countered.

                Oswald sighed and leaned against a wall. “Fine, but only for a moment.” He was a little surprised when Jim leaned against the wall beside him. “If I get the chance to kill him, I will. Just so you are aware, Jim.”

                “I figured as much. I’d rather you not, but we might not have a choice,” Jim replied, crossing his arms.

                Oswald stared up at Jim. Something had been weighing on his mind since Gabe had told them about the Joey’s friend. After a second or two he spoke, “What do you suppose we’ll do after this is done? We’re still connected and it doesn’t appear the string can be tricked.”

                “I don’t know. Let’s just get through this first,” Jim replied, his tone odd. Oswald nodded and they continued down the hall to apartment 518. Both had their guns at the ready as Jim tried the door. “Locked,” he muttered. "Good thing we got the key."

                The apartment was small and bare except for the necessities and a bit of junk here and there. As they moved farther in Oswald spotted a box on a shelf. Being that it was rather nice looking, it was quite out of place. He picked it up and opened it. “Jim…”

                “What?” Jim asked, looking through the bedroom.

                “Come here,” Oswald requested. Jim joined him and Oswald held out the box.

                “He’s keeping trophies,” Jim commented, glaring down at the contents. Inside were many short strands of red string. “His real name is Jeffery Wertz, by the way. There were pictures of him and his late girlfriend in the bedroom.”

                Before Oswald could reply, the front door swung open and a young man strode inside. “What the hell!?” He pulled out a gun.

                “Oswald, get down!”

                Oswald cried out as Jim tackled him. The bang of the gun echoed throughout the apartment. Jim grunted in pain and Oswald felt a warm wetness soaking into his shirt. “Jim! Move!” he gasped, rolling them over and out of the way as Jeffery fired again.

                “I knew I’d find you again!” Jeffery snarled, getting ready to shoot a third time. “Just didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come looking for me.”

                Oswald scrambled to his feet and pulled out his own gun. “It would have only been stupid if we hadn’t come prepared.” He dodged the bullet aimed at him and shot back. Jeffery leapt out of the way, swearing.

                The sound of footsteps clomping up the stairs outside got both of their attention. Before Jeffery could react properly, Oswald shot him in the leg. Jeffery gave a shout and collapsed to the floor. Grinning, Oswald limped over and pointed the gun at the man’s face.

                “GCPD! Put the guns down!”

                Oswald looked up to see Harvey rushing over with his own gun drawn.

                “I’ll take it from here before you give me a reason to arrest you too,” Harvey told him, shooing Oswald away.

                Rolling his eyes, Oswald turned and put his gun away. His eyes landed on Jim, who was lying unconscious on the floor a few feet away with blood seeping from his shoulder. “Jim!”

                “Shit!” Harvey swore, leaving Jeffery handcuffed to a radiator to hurry to Jim’s side.

                “Call the ambulance!” Oswald demanded.

                “I called the ambulance as soon as I heard gun shots,” Harvey replied, though he sounded worried. He moved to look out one of the windows to see if one was arriving.

                Oswald had stopped listening, though. He hobbled over to Jim and knelt beside him. Pressing two fingers to Jim’s throat, Oswald felt for a pulse. “Jim, you idiot,” he sighed with relief when he felt the steady thumping against the tips of his fingers.

 

* * *

 

                When consciousness returned to Jim, he almost wished it hadn’t - at least not so soon. His shoulder was throbbing painfully and his head ached dully. Jim cracked open an eye and immediately shut it against the bright fluorescent light.

                “Jim, you’re awake! Thank goodness.”

                Jim gradually opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of Oswald standing over him, smiling. “Am I in the hospital?”

                “Yes. You were shot in the shoulder. It wasn’t fatal, nor did it hit bone - though I know that’s not much comfort when it hurts as much as it does,” Oswald replied, sitting on the bed by his hip as Jim got the bed to tilt up a tad.

                “It’s better than being dead. Are you alright?” Jim asked, his eyes roaming over Oswald to check for any injuries.

                “Yes, I’m alright. Though you shouldn’t be asking _me_ that, you were the one who was shot.”

                Jim shrugged, then winced. “And what happened to Wertz? Did you kill him?”

                “No, he was arrested. Oh! I got you these as a thank you,” Oswald said, gesturing towards the bedside table. Jim turned his head and saw a vase of white heather, daffodils, lilacs, roses, peonies, and pink and red camellias. “I stepped out to get them while the doctors were looking over you. While I was out, though, the strangest thing happened. I had planned to tell Mr. Lǎo that we had caught Mr. Wertz; however when I got to the shop it was completely empty. It looked like no-one had ever been there in the first place. There wasn’t even a closed sign.”

                Jim blinked a few times. He had never been given flowers before and he wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Then the rest of what Oswald said caught up to him. “Wait, wait, you left the hospital? How?”

                Oswald’s smile grew and he held up his hand, extending his pinky finger. “The Red String of Fate has disappeared. It faded after you took that bullet for me.”

                “Oh,” was all Jim could think of to say. He wanted to pass it off as the string finally being tricked, but even he knew that was bullshit. Deep down Jim knew exactly why the string had disappeared. But knowing it and saying it out loud…“Um, well, I guess you know what that means, then.”

                Oswald blushed as Jim gently held his hand. “I have a fair idea, yes. But I’d prefer it if you would tell me outright, James Gordon” he said, gazing at Jim adoringly.

                Jim huffed and smiled. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Jim leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Oswald’s lips. “I love you.”

                Oswald grinned. “I love you too, Jim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story! Your comments and kudos all mean a lot to me. <3
> 
>  
> 
> For those who wish to know the meanings behind the flowers in the vase, here they are:  
> White Heather - protection  
> Daffodils - regard, 'you are the only one'  
> Lilacs - first love  
> Roses (many in full bloom) - gratitude  
> Peonies - healing  
> Camellias - Longing


End file.
